BN1: Better Never Than Bad
by LizD
Summary: COMPLETE REPOST Some fun at Rabb and MacKenzie's Expense, Adult Themed, Nothing Explicit
1. Chapter 1

Title: **Better Never Than Bad**

Chapter One

By: LizD

Spoilers: Sometime before the ruination of Harm (prior to mid-season 7)

**Notes: **There is a lot of innuendo in this little piece of fluff. Not sure how much of this would make it past the censors. On the other hand – who knows? Pike's comment to Rabb about 'standing her up against the wall' of their hotel room made it, and even made it to USA. So who knows? At any rate, this is supposed to be FUNNY (sad that I feel I need to explain that out the outset – I think that says more about me than you, my gentle readers). I am just having a little fun at Harm and Mac's expense. It was not meant to be a slam on the creators, producers, writers or actors of this show. Just some good clean fun. I hope you enjoy it.

Written: September 2003

**Disclaimers: No disrespect to JAG's cast, crew or creators. With love and thanks.**

**Chapter One**

What a face! What a puss! Did he eat at bad pickle? A lemon? Did he just realize that his TOFU hotdog was not so much Tofu as it was … beef?

And look at her.

Embarrassed. Uncomfortable. Poised to leap. Angry for sure … that tail – if she had a tail - slapping so hard on the bed ---

THE BED??

THE BED!

O M G! They did it!

They actually did IT.

The big IT!

OMG … How long had the two of them thought about it, anticipated it, avoided it, longed for it?

The look on their faces would say that it was TOO LONG.

And not a little too long … a lot too long … over long … well past long enough.

Sometimes when people wait too long for something, they forget why it was they were waiting for it.

WOW!

They did it!

And we missed it.

Mac got up and went to the bathroom.

Harm's face washed with dread. How was he going to get though the next few minutes much less night, day, week, month? How long would he have to pay for this?

Was it really that bad?

It was.

It was awful. Really awful. Stiff and restrained and unsatisfying. Arms and legs and noses that were never in the right place – not to mention … well let's not mention the unmentionables. It was worse than trying to carry a dozen broomsticks on a bus, and about as enjoyable. No, no, it was impossible. Mediocre would have been a huge step up.

Did she think so too?

He looked to the bathroom.

Probably.

In the bathroom, Mac was confused. How could it have been so wretched? They were both a little out of practice but it was supposed to be like riding a bicycle. Each was a passionate person - in their own right - and had done the BIG IT before with far better results.

Well, Mac could not speak for him, but she had to believe that THAT was not his SOP; it certainly wasn't for her.

So it must have been them – the two of them. Nothing worked right, nothing felt like it should; there was absolutely nothing sensual about the whole damn experience from beginning to end.

Take that back, Mac.

The kiss wasn't bad. Which kiss? The first one, the only one that mattered.

THAT kiss was a hell of a lot more than earth shattering.

It was … it was … well … well it was … it was a K I S S – electric, combustible, seismic.

In the end, not unlike the kiss the iceberg gave the Titanic.

So they were SUNK. What a waste after all those years of anticipation.

Whoa … Major let down.

Now the question was: how to get out? They both had to know that it bad … embarrassingly bad.

Although surely not the end of the world.

It could not have been not the first time sex was unsatisfying … unproductive … detrimental … for either of them.

But who was responsible?

Didn't matter.

What made it so bad … well other than the whole physical aspect?

There were no declarations of love or sweet talk or even passionate whispers shared in the dark. No spilling of 'at long last' history. Neither one over committed. Neither one gave up too much. In fact neither one said anything at all.

Wonder if that is why it SUCKED SO BAD?

Mac decided the direct approach was the best. She would look him in the eye and LIE.

She came back out into the bedroom. He was on the bed where she left him but he had pulled on his shorts.

"I hate do to this," she stated as she gathered her clothes making sure not to look in his general direction. "I have to go. I need to be at Quantico at 0600."

"Oh, yeah – of course," he saw through her act quickly and joined right in – selfishly.

The fact of the matter was that they were working on a case together, if she needed to be at Quantico, he needed to be at Quantico even though NO ONE they needed to see was going to be there at 0600.

"Should I go with you?" he pained the question.

"NO," she blurted out snapping back up from under the bed – she was looking for her shoe. If she could have left without looking like Cinderella running from the ball, she would have. Damn the shoe. "No, don't be silly. You have that other thing to do."

"Right. Oh yeah. Of course," he stumbled out. What other thing? He had nothing to do and she didn't need to be in Quantico. He got up and pulled his T-shirt back on. "Well, Ok, then. I'll catch up with you tomorrow afternoon. We can compare notes."

NOTES! OH God, was she supposed to prepare notes about this train wreck – oh, right, about the case. "Right," she found her shoe and was as dressed as she was going to get.

He walked her to the door. "Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?"

WHAT! What the hell was he saying? He was only being polite.

"Um – yeah – I mean no. I have plans tomorrow night."

**sigh of relief**.

"Ok – well then another time."

"Sure."

They gave an awkward semi Great Aunt Grace hug and a painfully dry kiss on the cheek. Mac escaped. It would be hard to know who was more grateful that they were out of the other's presence.

How could that happen? Who would have guessed it would be so -- so - horrendous? Certainly not Harm. And Mac? No. They were both passionate people with common interests. They seemed like a good match: good looking, above average intelligence, good hygiene, they had all their teeth and they were attracted to each other. Seemingly they should have been well suited – 'seemingly' being the operative word.

On the other hand – they were adults and you can never tell if any two adults are going to be compatible. These two were pretty set in their ways with a lot of individual and joint baggage. They knew that if they stayed friends – close, intimate (but not that intimate) friends, that something like that could happen – WOULD happen, and SHOULD have happened before – the incident not the result. The potential for disaster was one thing that had kept them apart (though neither would have expected that kind of disaster). There are rules about this kind of this. Rules to prevent this type of aftermath and fall out.

They knew the rules.

Rule Number One: "Never sleep with your best friend – hell, never sleep with any FRIEND."

That was the first rule in life that any good parent should teach a child when it comes to sex – probably more important than condoms (or at least a close second).

Rule Number Two: "Never sleep with a co-worker."

Dipping your pen in the company inkwell never turns out well.

Rule Number Three: … number 3 … hmmm … It is something about not sleeping with a coworker who is your best friend – but I can't think of it at the moment.

Those rules were in place for a reason.

Yet they did it any way. They succumbed to the pressure. Pressure from within and from without. Did the pressure itself impact the quality of the event or did it just make it inevitable? Regardless … this time … this fiasco --- took the inevitable off the table … and not in a good way.

So what was the penalty going to be; the penalty for one night, one moment of weakness in seven years of amazing restraint? Was it penalty enough that a hard won friendship was just shot to hell? Or was there something more that needed to be levied? A pound of flesh? Years at hard labor? A letter of punitive reprimand? Reduction in rank and loss of pay?

More than just the direct repercussions - how were they going to get past it?

It would have been hard enough to recover if it were good. If it were great …how would these two have gotten any work done? But be things as they were (BAD), could they really go back to being friends without the binding factor of USTs? Further --- armed with the kind of intimate information about the other they discovered during that debacle any future dealings they had would be tainted, painted and otherwise washed with this intell. Snide remarks and off hand comments would now take on a whole new meaning. He could not look at her the same way, nor she him. How could they work in the same office or on same case without causing WWIII?

The best thing either of them could do would be to sweep it under the rug and forget about it.

HA – what are the odds?


	2. Chapter 2

Title: **Better Never Than Bad**

Chapter Two

By: LizD

Spoilers: Sometime before the ruination of Harm (prior to mid-season 7)

**Notes: **Sexual Innuendo done for fun.

Written: September 2003

**Disclaimers: No disrespect to JAG's cast, crew or creators. With love and thanks.**

Chapter Two - The MAC Version

Mac arrived at JAG late in the afternoon. She actually had gone to Quantico, got there before 0600 and was done with what she needed by 0650. So where was she all day? Building up her courage to show up to work no doubt. She had been replaying the chain of events over in her head – not all of them – not the main event – ok, she thought about it a little – but mostly just what led to the main event.

It seemed innocent enough. She accepted a dinner invitation from her friend – a working dinner invitation. She had done that many times in the past. They had to work late and he offered to cook.

WHAT?

It was not a red-letter day; there would have been no notation in her diary:

_**Dear Diary, **_

_**Having a working dinner with Harm tonight. **_

_**He's so cute when he cooks.**_

Well at least she didn't think it was DIARY WORTHY at the time, it would have been after but she wanted no written record of the disaster.

Dinner was actually very good. He had taken to making fish for her, since his strictly vegetarian dishes were a little too un-carnivorous for our girl. They got a lot of work done and actually agreed about a strategy without too much debate.

It was nice.

After the dinner was over they were cleaning up. Mac was washing the dishes and Harm was putting the food away. It was all so normal. He stuck his hands in the running water as she was washing a dish and splashed her – it was an accident.

She laughed.

He laughed.

She splashed him back with a lot more water than was required for playful pay back.

He laughed.

She laughed.

Then, he – not being one to be one-upped, took a glass of water and poured it down her back. Now the battle was on in earnest. She won of course since she was at the source, but he got a few licks in. Eventually he had to oust her from her spot by the "armory" and did so by physically wrestling her down to the ground – taking on a lot of water in the process. That was when it happened. He had pinned her on the wet floor, well pinned her as much as she would allow herself to be pinned and as much as a wet floor, hands and body can pin anyone. She was struggling to regain her position of power when her lips brushed accidentally against his.

It was the shock that was felt around the world – at least in their world.

The struggle stopped.

He sat up.

She sat back.

He was soaked.

She was soaked and her degree of wetness left little to the imagination.

He excused himself and went to get her a towel and t-shirt to wear. When he came back, his shirt was off. It didn't occur to him that being wet and shirtless might be considered enticing …seductive … a come on.

Mac thought all of those things as she kept her arms across her chest.

He handed her the towel and shirt and restrained himself (as much as any man could) from not looking at what was right there in front of him to see and close enough to reach out and touch, caress, fondle.

She got to her feet and started to walk by him to the bathroom to change, when their hands touched – accidentally or otherwise was hard to say.

He grasped her hand and prevented her from leaving and turned her toward him.

She stepped up and gave him a little kiss on the side of his mouth.

He turned his head and returned it tenderly.

It sent a bolt of desire through both of them.

She studied his lips, his mouth for a long moment. It was familiar and new at the same time. He had kissed her before, but never like this. She vainly tried to free herself from his grasp, but he still would not let her go.

She looked up into his eyes; they were boring wholes through her resolve. She felt a warmth in region of her body that hadn't felt warm in a very long while.

He brushed some of the wet hair off her face back behind her ear curling his long fingers behind her neck.

She resisted her own desire and leaned back.

His other hand went to her face, caressing her cheek, letting his thumb edge her lips causing them to part.

Her breath caught, her eyes averted and closed at the sensation of his hands on her and she leaned in.

"Mac?" whispered out of him from somewhere behind those lips.

She opened her eyes and met his. She was immersed in the liquid blue of his desire. Still fighting her own; she lost the battle.

Their lips met, their mouths opened and tongues caressed. In that one moment, there was an inaudible click and all was right in the universe. They finally understood "desire fulfilled". It was sensual, it was loving; it was perfection.

Then the moment passed and something needed to happen next. They were at a crossroad with a decision to make: go back they way them came, or veer left or right. Going back – again – was not possible, not after that kiss. Without discussion, they took the easiest road: the road that lead to sex. They let desire, need, hunger for more over take them. Hands were groping, grabbing and pulling at wet clothing and they moved toward the bedroom. It looked more like a wrestling match than a seduction.

The rest you know.

So that's how it happened. There were no candles or soft music. It wasn't some major seduction scene out of a movie or Harlequin romance novel. There were no dramatic protestations of love and desire. It was two people playing. Period. Sometimes when adults play – adults of the opposite sex (but not always) – one thing will often lead to another. It was no one's fault. Neither one was more responsible than the other. But that kind of thing could happen when two people share a small space – particularly a small emotional or social space. It was bound to happen. Particularly when the history was considered. So it was done. Sadly it was not done well. But – it was done.

So now, Mac had to face the day after. She slipped - virtually unnoticed - into her office.

I say "virtually" because Harm actually saw her drive into the parking lot. He hid out in one of the empty courtrooms until she was safely tucked away in her office (actually he was waiting to see if she would come looking for him – she didn't).

She was trying to focus on what she was writing up from her interview at Quantico, but her mind kept wandering. The fact that every person walking by her office had the potential to be him did not help. It sent her stomach into knots. What she would say to him? What he would say to her? How they would deal with the new development? Would he see is as a DEVELOPMENT or would it be ignored? She found herself wondering how she could have prevented the incident. Could she have stopped it? That kiss, that first tender kiss given and returned was the pivotal point. She could still taste him; feel his sweet desire. If she had found herself in the same situation again, even knowing what she knew – she would have done the same thing. How could it have turned out so rancid?

"So you did it?"

_What?_ Mac looked up. It was Sturgis.

"You did it. Was it everything you expected it would be?"

"Excuse me?" Mac asked.

"I mean you have been thinking about it for some time – and finally you did it."

He couldn't be talking about what she is thinking about. Harm would not have said anything to him and if he did, Sturgis would never say anything to her about it, at least not so matter-of-factly. He had better not.

"So you know what a mistake the whole thing was," Sturgis pressed onward unchecked.

"I'm sorry - what?"

"Quantico – you talked to the CO," Sturgis pushed. "The case? When can we make a deal? We have court in the morning if we can't come to some resolution tonight."

"Have you talked to Harm?"

"He said that I needed to talk to you."

"Is he here?"

"Right here," Harm stepped from around the corner.

Was he listening? Did he set Turner up to say those things to her? No. She was just being paranoid.

Harm clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Sturgis – let's meet in an hour. Mac and I have some things to discuss first."

Uh Oh . . .

Turner walked away and Harm came in and took the chair in front of Mac. He left the door open. That was a good sign. It meant that there would be no discussion about **IT.**

"So?" he asked. Talk about an open-ended question.

"It was a mistake," she averted her eyes.

"A pretty big mistake – one that comes with a heavy price," he stated.

"Does it have to?" She couldn't help but notice his mouth: the movement of his lips, his teeth, his tongue. Were they the same ones she felt last night? Had to be.

"He is not a child Mac."

He licked his lips. Why did he do that?

"He knew what he was doing," Harm continued. "And he knew what the consequences were when he threw caution and his better judgment to the wind."

His mouth moved so smoothly. Like he had been using it for years – for more then just litigating. Why had she never noticed before? Why did she have to be so captivated by it now?

Harm kept talking unchecked. "There has to be some penalty, some punishment, some re-action to his action."

His lips pursed and pulled and came back to center with an elegance, a grace, a lustiness that she had never noticed before. Did he know how his mouth moved? Were these conscious movements on his part? Did he practice in front of a mirror?

"Mac?"

She shook herself back to reality. "So it was a mistake. We have all made mistakes – at one time or another," she looked back down at the file on her desk. Watching his mouth was not helping.

"That is true – at one time or another – but is it our responsibility to give him a free pass because we can appreciate a mistake?"

"You don't think he learned from it?" She looked back up at him.

"Well . . . ," he grinned – sort of.

There it was. That smile, only not really a smile this time, more of a facial expression as his mouth pulled back to for the word 'well.' Damn. His whole face changed when he did that.

"Well?" she asked. She need to see him talk more – talk about anything, read a phone book, anything just work those lips.

"He very well may have learned from it. But who is to say that he will not do it again, especially if he is not penalized for it this time?"

"Do you really think he would try it again?" It all of a sudden occurred to Mac that maybe Harm wasn't talking about their client. "Would you?" she asked tentatively.

"Without any consequences what would prevent him … or anyone from doing something … anything … again?"

"Desire to not repeat an unpleasant experience," she stated as if it were obvious.

"Maybe next time it would not be so unpleasant," he offered a little too suggestively.

"What if it were?" She was getting annoyed at this word play.

"What if it weren't?"

"What if it were worse?" she snapped.

"Worse?"

"Not out of the realm of possibility," she leaned back in her chair taking back her upper hand. "The regret, the remorse, the complete and utter embarrassment, shame and humiliation – not to mention the repercussions of being caught in the same position – er – um - situation again. That should have to give a person pause enough to NOT repeat the same mistake."

"It should, but not good enough."

"Shouldn't it be?"

"I suppose it should be. It would depend on the level of his remorse right now."

"I believe he is very remorseful," she stated emphatically. "Apologetic – down right penitent."

"When did you speak with him?"

"I haven't – I guess I am just surmising from all that I heard."

"Assuming facts not in evidence counselor – I will need to object."

"Is this my case or your case?"

"It is OUR case," he corrected.

"Fine – well my 50 votes say that we should deal."

"Deal? Seriously? You want to deal? Has it come to that already?"

"Be reasonable?"

"Why …why do I – do we need to be reasonable?"

He didn't want to deal. He didn't want to be reasonable? What was he saying? He couldn't be referring to the case. Was he saying that their situation couldn't be or shouldn't be resolved reasonably? What their mistake too big to be resolved reasonably? Was it really such an embarrassment for him to have left a woman so unsatisfied that he was going to have to find a way to make it her fault and make her pay? Was his ego really that big?

Puh-lease Mac, we are talking about Harmon Rabb. His ego would over flow the walls at the Grand Canyon.

"I think we should," she stated flatly. Maybe he was talking about the case.

"Fine," he eased himself out of the chair. She hadn't noticed before but he was moving rather slowly. Hmm, did he pull something last night? Don't know how – there was no acrobatic display. NO – DON'T GO THERE. Don't ask. Don't deal with it. Don't even acknowledge it, Mac. Just let him go.

"I'll see you in thirty minutes in the conference room."

She nodded and watched him limp from the room. "It was a stupid mistake," she said softly to herself. She told herself she was talking about the client, but … not so much.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: **Better Never Than Bad**

Chapter Three

By: LizD

Spoilers: Sometime before the ruination of Harm (prior to mid-season 7)

**Notes: **Sexual Innuendo done for fun.

Written: September 2003

**Disclaimers: No disrespect to JAG's cast, crew or creators. With love and thanks.**

Chapter Three – The Long Arm of Harm

Harm eased himself down into his chair. That was probably a mistake because he was not sure if he could get up. Last night after Mac left he went to the kitchen and before he knew what happened he found himself on the floor – the hard way. He slipped in the water left on the floor. How poetic. It was the water that started the mess and water that ended it. He must have wrenched his back in the fall trying to save him self. It took him a long time to get up. He lay there thinking about the previous hour. Was it a whole hour? Less than half an hour, come to think of it.

It started out as a working dinner with Mac. How did it all get so screwed up? He had no plan on nailing her that night. If truth were told he had pretty much given up the idea of ever hammering that nail home. He was fine with the idea that they would just be friends. Sure he was attracted to her – more than – and they did have the thing a few years ago, (well not really a THING, I guess it was more like a potential thing), but nothing came of it then and nothing would have come of it. They were past that, and NOT having the thing probably saved their friendship and their working relationship.

He stretched and tried to ease the muscles in his back. It was really too bad that the sex part sucked though. If it were good – even adequate - they could have laughed about it. Promised that it would never happen again. Become closer friends. Then in about three or four weeks it would happen again (better the second time around) and they would come to some sort of understanding that they would be occasional lovers (*&$# buddies) – friends, partners and *&$# buddies. Perfect. At the point in life they had reached that was more than either one of them had the right to hope for. It wouldn't change either of their lives – but it would scratch an itch that they both had – with no fuss, no muss, no one rearranging the bathroom. Perfect. But since it happened and it was BAD – VERY BAAAAD. What was supposed to happen next? They couldn't go back to being 'just friends'. What was he supposed to do with all the too-friendly feelings he had for her? After so much time, those feeling just don't go away after one bad experience. Just ask any guy.

The meeting he just had with her let him know in no uncertain terms that Mac wanted to sweep it under the rug. Not address it. Not deal with it at all. Hell, she didn't even want to acknowledge that it happened.

Everybody as you were, keep moving, nothing to see here.

Hell more than sweep it under the rug, she would probably ease back on their friendship, push him away, avoid him. Their working relationship would suffer and soon they would become enemies and she would blame him, she blamed him for everything … hell she probably blamed him for last night – all of it – from beginning to end. Yeah, that was just like Mac, taking no responsibility.

WELL SCREW THAT!!!

Why should he take all the blame? Why should he be punished for a mess that took the two of them to create? The blame would fall on him – naturally - him being the MALE, the HERO, the STAR. That was unfair. It takes two to tango and it takes two to tango badly. If they swept it under the rug, didn't talk about it and tried to put it behind them, it would eat away at them. It would ERODE their relationship – such that it was. Every little comment she would make would be full of innuendo, slams and slights (real or imagined). She of course would be allowed to say those things because she was the female (the WRONGED party), but if he tried the same thing, he would be ridiculed for being a macho chauvinistic misogynistic pig. So what if he was. Was he supposed to just stand there, be a target as she took pot shots at him for the rest of their lives? He was not alone in that bed. She had a part to play too. If it was bad – he would be damned if he would take all the blame. In fact she should take more than he should.

He heaved himself back in his chair. He had never had that kind of problem with a woman before. Most women were very satisfied – more than satisfied – they always came back for more. Reason number 918 that proved that Mac was not most women. No reason to think she was. She wasn't at the office and she sure as hell wasn't in bed. Doesn't she know her place anywhere? He is the man. He is the pilot. He is in charge of taking care of his plane, himself, and his crew. She was trying to fly from the back seat. Doesn't she know that a RIO is just a RIO and should only take over if the pilot was inadequate? HE WASN'T. If she had allowed him to take the controls; she might have enjoyed the ride instead of punching out at the first opportunity.

So there they were again, Mac and Harm both trying to lead and getting nowhere. It was a mistake, plain and simple. It was a mistake – but a long time coming. So they couldn't sweep it under the rug. Not after years of thinking about it. Years of keeping it at bay. Years of long lonely nights. That would just be adding injury to insult. He would have to force her to acknowledge and own her share of the responsibility.

He closed his eyes for a moment and snapped them back open. He saw her. Just as she was the night before – before the &%$ hit the fan. Soaking wet and laughing. What struck him last night and still lingered with him now was the curve of her neck. It had this sensuous slope that came down from her hairline behind her ear, over to her throat and down to her ample breast. That whole hairline-neck-throat-collarbone area drove him wild. With so much else to enjoy about her body, wasn't it funny that he would pick her neck? His only thought that night was that he had to taste it – it was good. A little soapy from the perfume and a little salty from the --- glow that women get (women don't sweat). Why had he never really noticed it before? Probably because never tasted it before. Of course it could have been because of her hair – sometimes long, sometimes short but always hanging around the neck and distracting his attention. She needed to either cut her hair or keep it pulled back. Of course, he wasn't about to tell her that now – not if they were going to work together. Just what he needed, to be watching her cross examine his witness and being completely distracted by the slope of her neck. Missing objections, loosing his train of thought, needing to stay seated until the feeling passed – no, no, that would NOT go over well. Maybe she could wear turtlenecks.

"Harm," Mac's voice cut the room. "Are we going to do this?"

"What?" Was she really asking him to do it –again? Here?

"Sturgis and the client are waiting for us," she walked away to the conference room. He pulled himself up slowly and followed after her.

Harm limped into the conference room and took his seat next to Mac.

Sturgis noticed immediately that Harm was limping and that there was serious tension between his opposing counsels that probably had nothing to do with the case. "You OK, Harm?" he asked. Mostly to put his client at ease they were all friends in the room. He cared about his friend, but not that much.

"Yeah," he groaned as he shifted position. "I slipped on some water on the kitchen floor last night. Wrenched my back pretty good."

"You'll need to be more careful. Water on the floor can be very dangerous," Sturgis warned.

"Can be downright deadly," Mac lobbed in Harm's direction as she looked at the client. Harm made sure to look away from her, but the shot hit its mark.

"So tell us what you have Commander," Harm steered them back on track.

"Well after talking with my client, his CO and they people involved – I think we should just let this one go. Charges never should have been filed," Sturgis was offering nothing. Another vote to let it be swept under the rug.

"Let him go. With nothing? Not a formal apology or a letter of reprimand?" Harm was appalled.

"I am sorry sir," the client offered but was stopped from saying more by Sturgis.

"You think this deserves to have a federal case made out of it? This was a simple -," Sturgis was cut off.

"Nothing is simple," Harm stated.

"The commander here feels that mistakes – no matter how insignificant -."

Harm snapped his attention back to Mac. "So now you are saying it was insignificant?"

"In hind sight I would say it was very insignificant," she blasted back. "In more ways than one."

"We never would have gotten here if you hadn't let us down this path Colonel," Harm lobbed back at her.

"Oh so now you are saying this is my fault," she turned completely toward him.

"Blame and fault lie with a number of people - ," Harm admitted.

"But not you?"

"Some people have a larger share than others," he nodded.

"It was an honest mistake, Harm," Mac was now focusing all her attention on Harm. Both Sturgis and the client were forgotten by the lovers – er, one-night-standers.

"Honest? Mistake? It was a fatal lapse in judgment."

"It was never close to being FATAL," she was shocked that he was taking it so seriously. "It is not that big a deal."

Bulls-eye to the Rabb ego. "Why isn't it a big deal for you, Colonel? Just too insignificant in your busy life?"

"I don't think it is worth the time and energy it takes to think about – there is no reason to throw away everything else over one stupid … mindless … unproductive mistake."

"UNPRODUCTIVE?" Harm leaned forward. "It produced more than you are willing to admit."

"Remorse has been expressed," Mac stated even though she knew that neither one of them had expressed remorse. "There is no reason to drag this out any farther."

"Remorse? REMORSE! Is that all it takes for you?" He ran his hand through his hair. "Screw up and apologize and we're all good?"

"Harm, I am saying -."

"Look, remorse, regret and apologizes are all worth the paper they are printed on if there is no REASONABLE assurance that --."

"I think it is safe to assume that everyone involved wishes that the situation never went as far as it did," she cut him off. "And we are all VERY clear that it will never happen again."

"You know what they say about assuming Colonel."

"Not this time."

"NO, that is not good enough," he slammed his hand down on the table. "There needs to be some restitution, some amends needs to be made. How can we be sure that the remorse is for the intent and not just the consequences?"

"How can you possible separate those two?"

"If the consequences were not so offensive, would it be attempted again?" he asked.

"That is a moot point in from where we sit today."

"What about the intent? This did not happen in a vacuum. What happened to that mind-set that led to the event? The intent was not to turn out as badly as it did, the fact that it did is beside the point – what is supposed to happen with all the feelings that lead up to the disaster/"

"They are washed away and forgotten due to the wretched outcome of the first attempt," she lied.

"First attempt? BAH. What makes you think this was the first attempt?"

"The first attempt that had any kind of follow through," she glared at him. "Regardless, the intent, the mind-set, the feelings that led up to the event are now materially altered."

"Because of the outcome?" He was floored by her comment.

"Because of the outcome."

"That is very shallow, Colonel." His words slapped.

"Shallow!"

"Now I see why you say it won't happen again."

"Trust me commander – IT WILL NOT HAPPEN AGAIN."

Just then the door slammed. Both Mac and Harm looked up confused. Turner was standing at the door – LIVID. He had pushed his client out so he could make one statement to them.

"GET A ROOM and GET IT OVER WITH, so we can all get on with our lives."

Turner slammed the door on his way out.

"Well THAT is not going to happen," Harm stated,

"Not again," Mac strode from the room leaving Harm frustrated and annoyed.

Mac was on fire. She was really mean. Was she saying that now that they had this awful experience all her feeling for Harm were gone? She could she really just shut off her attraction for him because she was not sexually satisfied on one night? Damn that is shallow. It was also a challenge. Harm hated to lose but for the moment, he no desire to play the game.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: **Better Never Than Bad**

Chapter Four

By: LizD

Spoilers: Sometime before the ruination of Harm (prior to mid-season 7)

**Notes: **Sexual Innuendo done for fun.

Written: September 2003

**Disclaimers: No disrespect to JAG's cast, crew or creators. With love and thanks.**

Chapter Four – Round Two

It was close to eleven thirty when Harm let himself into his apartment. He had gone to the chiropractor and had a massage and spent and hour in the hot tub. He was feeling a little better – a lot better – at least he could move. He had left Mac a note saying that he was taking himself off the case and that she and Turner could do whatever they wanted. He told the admiral that it was because of his back; there was no reason to explain the real connection from his back to the case to the admiral.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a shadow of someone sitting in the chair by the window. It was a woman with a great neck – OH NO. He flicked the light on.

"What are you doing here Mac?" he demanded in no mood to continue the fight they had.

"I came to apologize."

"Accepted, you can show yourself out," he went to the kitchen and was about to pour himself some water but changed his mind and pulled a beer from the fridge.

She followed him. The light and shadow in the apartment hung on her like silk. "You don't want to know what I am apologizing for?" she said softly, unphased by his dismissal.

"No."

He watched her approach as he took an excessively long hit on the beer. Her shirt collar was laid open revealing every curve and angle, every supple arc that led from her ear to her --- he swallowed hard. She had a different perfume on; different from the one she had on earlier that day and the one she wore the night before. _What did it taste like?_ He thought.

She watched his mouth as he drank from the bottle, licked his lips and pursed them slightly. She had a queer sort of envy for the bottle – so close to his lips, his tongue.

"You need to know," she said.

"I know as much as I care to know."

"You were right about Turner's client," she continued. "He was only sorry he got caught."

"How did you find out?"

"We let him go, and he went out immediately and did it again."

"With no repercussions – what would stop him?"

"Well, the Shore Patrol actually – he will be in jail until Monday and then will be arraigned on these new charges. He won't get off so easily this time."

"What makes you think he wanted to get off?" Harm asked a little too defensively. "I expect that he wanted to be held accountable, responsible and to be allowed to make restitution for his actions."

"Do you really?"

"I do," he leaned away from her but his irritation was dissipating. "His intent was not to screw up, the fact that he did, means that he should be allowed to try make amends."

"You think he wants to make amends?"

"Wouldn't you … in his position?" he asked back.

She shrugged a nod. "You know," she cooed. "The intent was not bad or wrong or even unexpected."

"Not unexpected?" he asked. "So it was expected?" he shifted his position toward her.

"More like anticipated," she corrected.

"Welcomed?" he asked.

"Most welcomed," she answered. "The only real issue was the execution – and that accountability must be shared."

"Some horses don't run the first time out of the gate."

"They need a little practice."

"Some training."

"Opportunities to get it right."

She was within arms reach of him. She had to touch his mouth, his lips. She took the beer from his hand and put it on the counter and stepped closer.

"It is a risk," she stated with her eyes fixated on his mouth.

"Taking another opportunity?"

"Anything that is left to be salvaged may be lost completely."

"Sometimes you have to tear some down completely in order to rebuild something better in its place."

"Are you suggesting that everything be thrown out?" she looked up into his eyes.

"Not at all," he leaned in. "I don't believe it was a total loss."

"No?"

"It opened the topic for discussion," he smiled.

The movement of his lips nearly did her in. "Yes it did."

"So what if …" He could no longer hold back. He put his hand to her throat very gingerly let his fingers caress every curve, slope and valley. "…the first time—"

"First?" She asked. "First implies a second." She sighed.

"And a third…" When his lips first brushed that spot just below the hairline, she let loose an audible sigh. And when he took a taste of her perfumed spot her moan was more than audible and sent tingles down to the toes of each. In one unified, synchronized motion they came together and kissed.

Round Two had begun. It took longer than 23 minutes – a lot longer – but neither one was clocking them. This time they took turns leading. This time words or pieces of words were passed in the darkness. This time neither one of them felt the need to punch out early. Still there were no candles, soft music or protestations of undying love and affection. But this time it was done well.

So what will they do when the cold light of day creeps in? That is another story.

Literally …


End file.
